Those in Peril (Unlocked) (58 page)

‘Tariq! You bloody fool, I could easily have chopped you to mincemeat in the prop.’ He reached over the side and caught hold of Tariq’s arm and hauled him on board. Then he ran back to the big outboard motor in the stern and twisted the throttle grip wide open. Under him the boat bounded forward and he lined it up with the wreck of the helicopter that was still wallowing on the edge of the beach. He looked back over the stern at the
Golden Goose
and with alarm saw the barrels of the two Bushmaster cannon swivelling towards them and beginning to range and track them.

He shouted at Tariq over the roar of the motor, ‘Quickly! Stand up and give Dave Imbiss a wave. He’s about to make a little mistake and blow us out of the water.’ Tariq jumped to his feet and balanced in the dancing longboat as he waved both hands above his head. At once the cannon barrels lifted off them, and they saw Dave’s head appear from behind the starboard cannon. He waved his helmet in the air in a gesture of apology. Then he disappeared back behind the blast shield and the cannon traversed right and resumed fire on some of the other attack boats which were scattering across the waters of the bay. Tariq crawled back along the bouncing and plunging longboat to Hector in the stern.

‘What’s going on, Hector? While I was still in the tunnel I heard you tell Dave to fire at a helicopter. You said that Uthmann was in it. But by the time I reached the cargo deck with Paddy I couldn’t see any helicopter. I was mixed up in the fighting. Then I heard you warn Paddy on the radio that Kamal and Adam had escaped down into the pump service tunnel. By that time the other pirates had been subdued. There was no reason for me to stay, especially when I saw you jump off the wing of the bridge. Of course, I had to follow you.’ Tariq looked anxious. ‘Did I do the right thing, Hector?’

‘Completely the right thing, as always, Tariq,’ Hector replied in Arabic, and Tariq lapsed into the same language.

‘Thank you, Hector. But where is Uthmann now? What happened to the helicopter? Where are we going?’

‘Dave gunned the helicopter down, and it crashed on the edge of the shore.’ He pointed ahead. ‘There, you can see the wreckage floating in the surf.’

‘But Uthmann? What has happened to him?’

‘He escaped from the wreck. I saw him wading ashore. I jumped from the bridge to go after him.’

‘I am glad I followed you. I want him even more than you do,’ Tariq said softly.

‘I know.’ Hector nodded. ‘He belongs to you. We will hunt him down together, but you will be the one to take vengeance.’

‘Thank you, Hector.’ Tariq drew a long breath to steady himself. ‘Is he alone? Is he armed? Neither of us has a rifle.’

‘Yes, Uthmann is alone. He had a rifle when he took off from the cargo deck, but after the helicopter crashed I saw him wade ashore. Too far off to be certain, but I don’t think he was still carrying it. He probably panicked when he hit the water, and forgot all about his weapon. His only thought would have been to get to dry land. We will make a quick search of the helicopter cabin, if it’s still afloat when we get there.’

They were tearing across the bay at fifty miles an hour, leaving a long straight creaming wake behind them as they headed for the wrecked machine. The sprawl of shanties which made up the town was half a mile further down the bay shore. Hector stood up and studied the terrain beyond the wreck into which Uthmann had escaped. It was devoid of any habitation, with rolling sand dunes covered in dense thickets of coarse salt scrub.

‘Not a good place to track a wounded lion,’ he decided. Uthmann was as dangerous as any wild animal. Hector slowed the longboat as they came up to the floating helicopter. The bows bumped against the wreckage. The air was heavy with the smell of spilt aviation fuel. Tariq scrambled up onto the battered fuselage and knelt to peer into the open doorway.

‘There it is!’ he called and disappeared through the door. He emerged again only seconds later brandishing a Beretta assault rifle.

‘Ammunition?’ Hector demanded.

‘None,’ Tariq answered, ‘only what is in the magazine.’

‘Maybe twenty rounds, if we’re lucky. That should do.’

Hector put the outboard motor into gear and moved in slowly towards the beach. They both saw the string of footprints that Uthmann had left in the yellow sand. They ran from the edge of the water up the slope of the first dune and disappeared into the saltbush thicket on the crest. They wasted no time trying to moor the boat. Hector cut the motor, but let the boat drift. They jumped down into the knee-deep water and Hector led Tariq at a run to the foot of the first dune. Here they paused briefly to examine the spoor and then check the weapons they carried.

‘Here, take this!’ said Tariq, proffering the Beretta. ‘You are a better rifle shot than I am. Let me have your pistol.’ They exchanged weapons. Both rifle and pistol were soaked with saltwater. They shook it out of the magazines as best they could and made sure the barrels were free of sand or any other obstruction.

‘That’s the best we can do. They are designed to work in all the most extreme conditions,’ Hector grunted. ‘You lead, Tariq. Tracking is your job. I will be on your left side.’ They climbed to the top of the first dune, where they found the spot where Uthmann had lain amongst the bushes. Tariq knelt beside the indentation his body had left. The loose dry sand was still trickling down into it. He must have watched them land on the beach, before he moved on. Something else caught Hector’s eye: a pair of sandals lying under the nearest clump of scrub. They were still soaking wet, and the strap on one of them had snapped at the buckle. Uthman must have discarded them and gone on barefoot. The tracks he had left confirmed this.

‘He is not very far ahead,’ Tariq whispered. ‘He is probably watching us again right now.’

‘Go carefully. He might have lost his rifle, but he always has his blade,’ Hector warned. For a brief moment they both thought of their four companions whose corpses they had left at the Oasis of the Miracle. Then they put from their minds everything but the job in hand. They went forward in overlapping formation so that each of them was able to cover the one flank as well as the immediate front. They could not afford to let their hatred override their respect for Uthmann as a fighter. They dared not let him get in close enough to use his blade.

The bush was dense, the hooked thorns tenacious. They had to move with the greatest care so as to make as little noise as possible. It took them six minutes ten seconds by Hector’s wristwatch to cover the first hundred yards. There they came upon Uthmann’s next lie-over, where he had waited for them to come up to him. If they had shown the slightest carelessness or given him any advantage at this stage they knew that this was where he would have taken them. But he had moved off again just ahead of them. The barefoot tracks he had left in the sand where he had squatted to wait for them were still settling.

Now he knows we aren’t going to blunder in on top of him
, Hector thought grimly.
His next trick will be to circle and try to get behind us.
He snapped his fingers softly and Tariq shot a quick glance at him. He made a circling motion to warn him. Tariq nodded; he understood the danger. They went on. Twice more they pushed Uthmann off his lie-over. Each time he moved away silently just ahead of them.

By now he will be thinking he has lulled us with repetition. This is when he will circle back on us.
Hector changed his own tactics in anticipation. After every twenty slow paces he stopped and revolved slowly, studying the ground that he had already traversed from a fresh angle. Then he squatted on his haunches and studied the same ground behind them from a lower perspective, concentrating on the bases of the trees where the roots were bunched and twisted, behind which a man could lie with a thin sharp blade in his hand.

Suddenly Hector blinked as something alien caught his eye. He stared at it with all his concentration. It moved slightly and the whole picture jumped into focus. He was looking at a naked human foot that protruded from behind a bunch of the twisted roots. The sole of the foot was dusty pink, and the skin above it was tobacco brown. Hector felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. By God, Uthmann was close! He had almost walked on top of him.

He was lying not more than five long strides from where Hector was. Hector knew he could cover that distance with the speed of a hunting cheetah. He could almost feel Uthmann’s eyes on him, watching him through one of the tiny chinks in the dense vegetation of the saltbush. Uthmann had a trick of keeping his eyes carefully slitted when he watched an enemy, his dark lashes veiling the tell-tale shine of the whites of his eyes. Hector saw the tendons in Uthmann’s left foot standing out proud as he dug in his toes for purchase in the soft earth, prior to launching himself at Hector.

Hector was squatting on his haunches. The rifle was across his lap. There was a bullet in the breach, and the safety was off. His right hand was on the pistol grip, but he knew he could not get the rifle butt to his shoulder before Uthmann covered the gap and was on him. If that happened the rifle would be an encumbrance. He had to shoot out of hand, and he had to do it quickly. Uthmann’s foot was all he had to aim at, and he had to fire without lifting the weapon from his lap. He could not aim the shot. He had to let his instinct take over completely. This was payback time for all those hundreds of hours spent on the firing range, he told himself. He made a slight movement as though he was about to rise upright, but the barrel of the rifle dropped slightly and swung through a narrow arc onto the target, and he fired as a reflex action. He saw the heel of Uthmann’s bare foot ripped off in a burst of bone chips, flying tissue and blood.

Uthmann grunted as savagely as a gut-shot lion and he reared up from behind the saltbush. But the crippled foot pinned him to the spot. The pain forced him down on one knee. Hector saw the blade in his right hand, and the despair in his eyes. Uthmann knew he had lost, but he kept trying. He came up again on one leg, and tried to hop close enough to Hector to use the blade. But by now Hector was on his feet and charging in on him. He swung the rifle butt at Uthmann’s elbow. It landed solidly and he felt the joint shatter. This time Uthmann screamed, and the blade spun out of his nerveless fingers. The crippled foot gave way and he sprawled in the loose sand. Tariq darted in behind him and seized the wrist of Uthmann’s damaged arm. He wrenched it over and the broken bones grated upon each other. Tariq put his boot on the back of Uthmann’s neck and forced his face into the sand. It filled his eyes and mouth and nose. He began to suffocate.

‘Wait!’ Hector ordered Tariq.

‘You told me that vengeance was mine,’ Tariq protested. He was sobbing wildly with the strength of his hatred.

‘This is too good for him, Tariq.’ Hector pulled him back. ‘This is too quick. This creature burned your wife and your son. He murdered our comrades. He betrayed us to the Beast. He must pay for these sins in full measure.’ Tariq shook his head and lifted the pistol, shoving the muzzle into the back of Uthmann’s head.

‘There is no fitting punishment. Anything we can do to him will not be enough.’ He ground the muzzle of the loaded pistol into his scalp, but although Uthmann’s face contorted with agony he refused to cry out.

‘It was you who set fire to my home,’ Tariq panted at him, ‘you who burned Daliyah and my son! Deny it if you can, Uthmann Waddah.’ Uthmann tried to smile but it was a painful travesty, and his voice was pain-racked. He spat the sand out of his mouth,

‘They reeked like burning pork as they cooked,’ he whispered, ‘but I revelled in the stink of them.’ Tariq sobbed and looked at Hector with the tears oozing down his cheeks.

‘You heard him! What is there we can do to match such evil?’

‘Water,’ Hector replied quietly. ‘Only seawater will wash away this stain from the face of the earth.’ They saw the terror flare in Uthmann’s eyes, and Tariq rejoiced.

‘Of course, you are right, Hector. Seawater will do it. Up, Uthmann Waddah! Get on your feet. Your last walk will be down the beach and into the sea.’ Tariq lowered the pistol and grabbed his wrist. He twisted it viciously against the shattered elbow joint. Uthmann shrieked again. His fierce defiance and his reckless courage were eroded by the threat of the one thing he feared above all else.

‘I challenge you to do it here, if you have the stomach for it, Tariq. Shoot me and make an end to it, you gutless coward!’

‘You are too hasty,’ Tariq told him. ‘This is the final act of your foul existence. You must savour every last moment of it. The taste of saltwater in the back of your throat, the burn of it in your lungs as they fill, the sting of it in your eyes as your vision fades.’ He hauled on the broken arm and Uthmann could not resist the pressure. He allowed himself to be hoisted upright and tried to balance on his one good leg, but Hector seized his other arm and between the two of them they dragged him back to the beach. At last they looked down upon the bay from the crest of the final dune.

The
Golden Goose
lay at anchor where they had last seen her, but most of the surviving pirate longboats were abandoned along the shoreline like flotsam left behind the storm. The cannon on the
Golden Goose
were firing intermittently at targets that were out of sight to them from where they stood, and there was the distant rattle of automatic fire from the precincts of the town. A few of the buildings were on fire and the smoke drifted out over the bay. Just below them the longboat that they had abandoned was nudging the beach.